St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-03-12
good faith, and to be loyal in their restored
allegiance to the general government.

ROOu lultH, dllu W bt iul III III LutlT TtSluFtu
allegiance to the general government.
80
Gov. SMITH was never an extreme states
rights Democrat, and was not classed rs au
original secessionist. He was twice nomi-
mated by the Democratic legislative caucus as
his partys candidate for United States sena-
tor, but in each instance was defeated by a
co... .tion of the Wing minority with the Call
HoUN Democrats. The first time he was
beaten by X. NJ. Il. HUNTER and the last time
by JAMES NJ. MASON, of MAsoN-SLIDELL
fame
Mademoiselle DE LUSSAN tells Chicago re-
porter that she has been slandered. She de-
MES most emphatically that she is knock
kneed. and can't for the life of her imagine
how such wicked report got into circula-
ton. Mademoiselle's proportions may be all
right, but she will miss great deal of valu-
able advertising by undeceiving the public in
regard to the matter.
~
The GLOBE has received number of an
swers to its query concerning the authorship
of 1.-The River of Time" The bulk OF
them accredt the authorship to BENJAMIN
FRANKLIN TAYLOR. some of them to BAyARD
TAYLOR and only one to Miss BACHELOR.
~
EDWIN S. THOMPSON, Esq.-Referring to
me GLOBES query concerning the author
ship OF The River of Time''-than which a
more musical and exquisitely cut poetic gem
is rarely seen-I will say that it is from the
graceful pen of the late BENJAMIN F. TAYLOR,
poet, correspondent, journalist, general
literateur and author of Summer Savory,"
The World on Wheels Camp and Field
and Songs of Yesterday"
%.*
So long ago as 1859 a suspicousy similar
poem accredited to MARY E. BACHELOR was
was published i'll magazine called The La
dies Repository. In reply to an inquiry con-
corning the authorship of the two poems,
Mr.. TAYLOR told me several years ago that
he was the author of 1.-The River of Time" and
made such lucid, full and cogent eXplana-
ton OF the matter as to make it clear to my
mind that the poem Of Miss BACHELOR
was pirated, and that she was a bandit bard.
TAYLOR, although somewhat bizarre, was q
sunny-souled, accomplished gentleman of mar
vicious versatility, delightful companion,
and every thought that he voiced, in song or
prose, is as aromatic as the wild flowers and
grasses, and as pure and soulful in tone as
the notes of the trush.''
~
Miss BACHELER'S poem, which was pub
liShed over her name i'll the Ladies Repository
in 1859, bears striking similarity to Mr..
TAYLOR'S verses, yet there is just distinction
enough between them to show that one was
written by man and the other by woman
The following is the poem accredited to Mis- 5
BACHELOR:
THE MAGICAL ISLE IN THE RIVER OF TIME
By Mary E. Bachelor.
There's magical isle in the river of time
Where softest of echoes are straying.
And the isle is as sweet as a musical chime
Or the exquisite breath of tropical cline
When June with the roses is staying.
TITS there memory dwells, with her pale
golden hue,
And music forever is flowing,
While the low musical tones that come tremb-
lingly through,
Sadly trouble the heart, and yet sweeten it,
too,
AS south winds DER waters are blowing.
There are shadowy hills in the fairy-like isle,
Where pictures of beauty are cleaning;
Yet the light of their eyes, and their sweet
sunny smile
Only flash round the heart with a 'wildering
vile.
And leave us to know it's but dreaming.
And the name of this isle is the beautiful
past,
And we bury our treasures all there;
There are beings of beauty, too lovely to last;
There are bosoms of snow, with dust DER
them cast;
There are tresses and ringlets of hair;
There are fragments of songs only memory
sings,
And the words of dear mothers prayer;
There's a harp long unswept, and lutte
without strings;
There are flowers all withered, and letters,
and rings
Hallowed tokens that love used to wear.
Fen the dead, the bright, beautiful dead,
there arise,
With their soft-dowing ringlets of gold;
Though their voices are hushed, and FER their
sweet eyes
The unbroken slgnet of silence now lies,
They are with us again as of old.
In the stiffness Of night hands are reckoning
us there,
And with joy that is almost pain
We delight to turn back. and in wandering
there,
Through the shadowy halls of this island so
fair,
We behold our lost treasure again.
o, this beautiful isle, with its phantom-like
show,
Is a vista unfadingly bright:
And the river of time in it's turbulent flow,
Is oft soothed by the voices we heard long
When the years were a dream of delight.